


Linhardt has a Bad Night

by Rectangle



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: I might as well wild the fuck out, Lin is like 9 in this cause I said fuck it if I’m gonna be problematic, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rectangle/pseuds/Rectangle
Summary: pets lin, i actually feel a little bit bad about this one but listen, wiggles my tentacles
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/2 Unidentified Males
Kudos: 26





	Linhardt has a Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> pets lin, i actually feel a little bit bad about this one but listen, wiggles my tentacles

It’s the middle of the night and Linhardt sits up straight in his bed. He's not sure what woke him but he blinks in the darkness. He's lying back down when there's another sound by the window. He looks towards it and sees a hulking figure outside. He scrambles back in his bed and is about to shout for his mother when there's a hand over his mouth. He screeches anyway, bites at the hand until it's taken away and he hears the sucking of teeth plus a curse.

He's sucking in a breath to bellow when whoever it is grabs the hair on his head and _yanks_ back, cutting off his air supply with the stretch of his throat.

"Yell and we kill everyone in the house."

Linhardt freezes.

"Who are you?" He sounds scared even to his own ears.

There's no answer; he's heaved over somebody's shoulder and they climb out the window with him.

"Where are you taking me?" He still sounds scared even though he tries not to.

"We're going to take a little strip into the woods." It's a moonless night.

"To do wh-" a sock is slipped off of his foot and shoved into his mouth. He grunts, kicks, but it's useless, the man is so much bigger than him.

It's a trek and then the man carrying him just, throws him to the ground. He hits his head and all the wind gets knocked out of him, it's jarring. He tries scrambling to his feet but he doesn't even make it to his side before there's a foot on his chest keeping him in place.

"Don't move," the voice growls. There's a rope that goes around his wrists.

A whimper makes its way out of Linhardt's throat.

"Don't worry, this will be over soon."

Whoever it is pushes Linhardt's knees to his chest and pulls off his underthings. Linhardt cries out, it's cold and only he's supposed to see his privates.

There's a cold finger wet with something that pokes at his butt hole and he jerks, kicking his feet. One makes contact but then he gets a slap across the face that has him seeing white.

The finger poking at his butt hole enters him and he squirms, tosses his head, uncomfortable and afraid. 

"Stop moving," the voice says, pinches at the skin at the back of his thighs. And then something much bigger than a finger pokes at his but, enters and Linhardt's eyes are wide, he holds his breath as if that will hold the pain at bay. Then he begins to thrash, wildly, completely, and with abandon.

"For fuck's sake, hold him still," and then the other man presses his shoulders into the ground while the first man presses his knees to his chest. His legs are mooth and pale and oh so soft. It's hard to breathe.

He pleads around his sock because it hurts, it hurts! But the pain doesn't stop, instead it increases as the man presses in further, the pain radiating outwards until he is warm with the heat of it.

He screams behind the gag, kicks again but that makes it hurt worse so once again he is still. He whimpers, shaking and trembling. He's just gotten used to the pain but then the man _moves_ and suddenly it's blooming again. 

His captor grabs onto his slim hips to push in deeper, deep, deep, too deep, deeper than anything that's ever touched Linhardt, deeper than he knew anything could reach, and Linhardt creaks with the pressing of him. His skin is cold and clammy, a thin sheen of sweat prickling over his body.

The man pulls away from him and it still hurts, Linhardt groans because it's all he can do, he wants this to end.

But it doesn't. It just seems to go on and on and on. The man picks up speed and Linhardt rattles against the ground, with the force of the man pressing in and pulling out and the sobs that shake his frame.

"Goddess, you're so tight," he says and it occurs to Linhardt to ask the goddess why? Why, why why? It's a chant, pulsing in his blood and under his skin.

"I want to use his mouth" but all it sounds like is rushing water to Linhardt's ears.

But then the gag is being pulled from his mouth and later it will eat at him, that the first thing he does is blubber out a sob instead of screaming for help. He's about to scream, truly, when something lands on his face then pokes at his lips. It's too big for his tiny little mouth, his plush lips stretching around something warm and smelly and fleshy.

The taste makes him gag but then it pushes to the back of his throat, filling his mouth and he _really_ gags. It pushes and pills in and out, in and out, and so does that thing at his butt and he doesn't understand what's going on and he's very frightened and he can't breathe and that thing in his throat keeps making him gag and he feels his stomach heave and heave with each press of it past the spongy ring of his esophagus until he pukes and he thinks he's going to die until someone turns his head to the side.

He sobs, his breath hitching, his face is a mess of tears and snot and puke and then the sock is shoved back in his mouth. There's a squelching sound above his head, rhythmic and the sounds of grunting, until there's something wet and smelly on his face, surprising him and making him wail.

The man over him stills and finally, finally, pulls that thing out of his butt. It aches. He feels something wet slide between his cheeks and he sobs some more while unbeknownst to him the men put away their cocks. They pull the sock out of his mouth.

"Count to 60 and then go the opposite direction from us if you want to find home. If you move or shout before 60 we'll know and we'll come back and hurt you worse."

Linhardt nods fervently, letting them know he'll be good. He has to quiet his sobs to hear which way they go because he fears not hearing them and being left to be eaten by wolves or to starve by himself. He counts to 100 just to be safe, and then counts to 100 one more time before he rolls to his side and struggles to his feet.

He stumbles back to the estate, on shaky legs like a fawn, crying for his mother. 

**Author's Note:**

> also i deleted the comments to keep this a ?? clean space for others but know i cherish every one of them <3


End file.
